


Castles in the air

by platehate



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eren is a sad friend, F/M, Flashbacks, Hallucinogens, Implied Relationships, Prophetic Dreams, but i like depressing, doomed romance, just young people who give up on the world, oh whatever, pre and post-crystal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2521415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platehate/pseuds/platehate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castles in the air are never going to be reached, no matter how many years you spend chasing those dreams.</p><p>Eventually, Annie stops trying. Armin does too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> more a misfire of a self-given prompt than anything
> 
> title plucked from don mclean's song of the same name - awesome shiz, go listen to it.

 

_//_

_And if she asks you why, you can tell her that I told you_  
 _That I'm tired of castles in the air_  
 _I've got a dream I want the world to share_  
 _And castle walls just lead me to despair_

_//_

 

**xxx**

Annie plays the words of the song in her head as she goes through the motions every day.

It’s a 2000 year old relic, a piece of the past that humanity has long forgotten. She’d come across it by chance in her old hometown, when she was out in the wilderness checking the family’s snares, half buried in the dirt between gnarled roots. It was a strange thing, and the black market trader she’d taken it to for appraisement called it a ‘record’, though she didn’t see recordings of any sort on it. In exchange for a bit of game, she got him to show her how it worked – and it was a magical experience, shuffling into a back room and listening in wonder as the tune and words filled the air around her. Annie had stayed as long as she could in that room, drinking the words in as they played on repeat. They followed her around automatically after that, lurking in the back of her mind and surfacing in any remotely applicable situation.

The words didn’t come to mind when she had to leave home and journey to Trost or wherever to join the trainee squad, because those were intended to be the important first steps on the journey towards realising their dream – there was so much hope and possibility in the air it squeezed her chest and made her lungs burn with anticipation. Slipping into the midst of fellow teenagers was easy, but feeling like she was part of them was difficult, despite having the same uniform and same training schedule and same superiors to answer to. Because wasn’t she special? – she, out of them all, had a special goal, at least. Well, that dumb trio seemed to think they were special too; shouting to the world about rebuilding walls and slaying all titans in existence and living freely outside one day; which is laudable, perhaps, but ultimately foolhardy.

 

**xxx**

 

On a stifling hot afternoon, the song swims around in her head, which is heavy from the mugginess of the air. It drives her to distraction, so she walks round to the back of the latrines, because it’s the only secluded spot she can think of that isn’t currently occupied by anyone else. The rough wood planks of the latrine wall scrape harshly against her back as she slumps against them and slides down, uncaring of her white pants. Gravel, packed dirt and dying weeds tend not to stain, in any case.

It’s the first and only time she’s sung the song aloud.

After all, now she’s older and she knows better, knows that songs aren’t really worth dwelling on because the only thing she is allowed to focus on is completing her mission. An old song won’t help with that, won’t help her capture Eren, and won’t make the world see how desperate the shifters are to protect themselves, too. When the last words of the refrain fade slowly from chapped lips, she lets her head loll back and sighs fully, but abruptly stops brooding to scan her surroundings for any people. A little pit of dread nestles into her stomach when she hears the cautious scrape of boots through the wooden partition – those are the footsteps of someone who’s been remaining deliberately silent for purposes of concealment. She can feel it when the intruder (on this _private_ moment) exhales thinly and she tenses, ready for the ungainly scramble to leave and an overturned bucket or two, but not at all prepared for whoever it is to slide down too, and sit back to back with her. Annie narrows her eyes at the wood and hears a dry chuckle come from the other side. She huffs. It’s a male voice. Three guesses which guy in the whole squad would be the type to sit down in a latrine to listen to a girl singing a sad song. No one but Arlert fits the bill.

The boy shifts just then, angling himself such that he’d be facing her perpendicularly, if they could see each other. Annie stares at the gap between wooden partition and raised concrete, and soon enough white fingertips come into view.

“Hey,” the disembodied voice says, “can you sing it again?”

It interjects, “but slower,” before she can even blink.

So she does, despite every mite of her instincts telling her not to. Armin joins in after a while, and they sit there, brokenly whispering strings of words to some forgotten tune. Annie swallows the lump in her throat when his little finger curls tightly around hers, resting innocuously on the dirt surface, next to the burnished gleam of her shifter ring.

It does nothing for her.

 

**xxx**

 

She’s sixteen and jaded, and with every thwarting of her efforts by that blasted scouting legion, the dream becomes more distant, in both the literal and figurative sense. Annie’s always been short, but nothing has ever felt so out of reach as when she failed to scale those walls. Plunging to the earth, with the severed stubs of her fingertips still embedded in the wall, it occurs to her that they’re not the only walls she couldn’t scale. There are also walls between humanity’s truth and the shifter’s truth, walls within a family, walls between her and her peers (except maybe Eren, Reiner and Bert, Mina, and dare she include Armin?), the walls of castles in the air. She can’t climb the walls of those; it’s as she thought all along – unattainable dreams. She still doesn’t want to say she’s giving up, but perhaps that’s because of the fatigue.

 _Hey Eren_ , she thinks, as the crystal takes shape and solidifies around her form.

_I’m asking you to say my last goodbye._

To Armin, of course.

Eren’s the only one who can do this for her. He’s rash and easy to provoke and much too angry at the world for his own good, but he’s probably the one who can empathise with her best. She admires that burning spirit of his when it comes to protecting what he thinks is important, even if he gets his ass handed to him repeatedly. She can see it in herself, albeit played out in a more covert manner, and on a much larger scale. Annie also privately thinks it’s a pity the last words they got to exchange before facing off had to be about choosing sides and all, but she’s never going to admit desiring more conciliatory topics of conversation with such people. They don’t get it anyway, they don’t get anything. No matter how much they think they know. No matter how much Armin thinks he knows – about her, and everything else.

If Annie could admit that in her last conscious moments she was being more selfish than selfless to a cause, she’d say that she didn’t want them to ever get it, because they didn’t deserve to know.

 

**xxx**

 

Eren wakes to hear the news that Annie is now encased in crystal, and is then promptly administered a sedative to ensure that he'll actually get some rest instead of wearing himself down again. 

He dreams of looking over the walls in titan form, and seeing Annie in titan form too, carving out words on the barren landscape with a shard of crystal; the same phrases over and over again. It's all _castles in the air_ and _Armin_  and _tell him, tell him, tell him_.

He can't speak, he knows, but he tries to shape his mouth into a _hello_ ; she shapes hers into a _goodbye_.

Sea green eyes fly open at that - but they give nothing away. When Armin stands and leaves to fetch Mikasa, Eren watches him go, watches him go and wonders what could have happened between the two not-quite-friends and not-quite-strangers that he never saw.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_//_

_Save me from all the trouble and the pain_   
_I know I'm weak, but I can't face that girl again_   
_Tell her the reasons why I can't remain_   
_Perhaps she'll understand if you tell it to her plain_

_//_

 

**xxx**

 

Armin’s been an avid reader of books since young, and they’ve been the source of both countless joys (from the power of discovering something new) and countless sorrows (due to the incessant bullying). The ones that tell of the outside are the most fascinating, because he’s never had a chance to see _that;_ the world outside the walls is mysterious and unknown and dangerous and alluring. His dreams are coloured in by the knowledge he gleans from devouring text, the few snatches of brightness in this drab city, and Eren’s enthusiasm. When he dreams, he’s free and on top of the world, and when he wakes to see the sun rise he can imagine the drabness of the city away, replacing it with softly rolling greens and tender orange clouds and the intense red of a songbird’s breast; the picturesque tableaus he moves about in behind closed lids.

 _Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, the feel of sunlight in the morning._ Armin’s very aware that no one else talks about wanting to experience these things, or even knows how to appreciate them. They only live for the sake of living, going through routine after routine with no higher purpose to existence. He doesn’t always know whether to pity or envy that aspect of humanity, to be honest.

So when he’s in the outhouse at camp and hears _those words_ being sung in a strangely tender rasp, his heart leaps instantly, and he hardly dares breathe for fear it will stop. It speaks of the hills and the sunlight as a welcome refuge from a love that isn’t meant to be, the accepted end point when one gives up dreaming impossible dreams and turns to the soothing reality of nature – how poignant. But for him, the hills and the sunlight _are_ the impossible dream. It makes the prospect of accepting what’s around him infinitely more terrifying.

He’s glad she doesn’t scarper when he plunks his body down, so they’re back to back. He’d like to be able to see something of this person, though, so he angles himself differently against the wooden walls and tries to peer out, but all he can see are the regulation white pants and brown leather harness sitting on the ground. There’s nothing for it but to extend his hand cautiously, hovering by the gap between the raised floor of the latrine and the stilted wooden partition. Surprisingly, his request for a repeat performance is obliged with, and the singer turns too; they stare each other down from opposite sides. Then whoever it is on the other side lets a hand rest on the ledge – within reach. He must have been spotted, he thinks, but he isn’t going to let this opportunity slip, so he curls his little finger around hers.

It’s an impulse, even though his gut is twisting in a way that doesn’t forebode well, but he wants to make some kind of promise, something to tie him together with – his eyes catch on the metal surrounding one finger – oh, _Annie_. Annie, and no one else. He presses a kiss to the wooden planks, where he imagines her temple is.

An empty gesture.

 

**xxx**

 

This is the same Annie who, about a year later, is discovered to be a titan shifter just like Eren, who leaves him without knowing whether or not good and bad people are important to her, or whether people can be divided by such crude classifications in the first place. Eren is the one closest by when she takes on that crystal covering, though he’s bloodied and totally strung out after the fight, and in no condition to answer any questions. However, maybe he of all people doesn’t need an intermediary, because he can see that her answers to everyone’s questions, whether stated or not, are clear as day.

In hindsight, that is. Everything they want and need to know about titans is reflected right back at them by the light that bounces off the surface of her crystal cocoon, because encapsulated in every single one of their human selves is the latent ability to transform into the very monsters they fear. But no one will talk; no one wants to be taking the blame for uncovering an uncomfortable truth that they won’t be thanked for. No one wants to confront the monsters in them, only wanting to challenge those around them. Perhaps it’s better that way, contained.

 

**xxx**

 

Armin cannot find the time to think of her until nearly two years have passed, when the turbulence of Erwin’s scheming has passed and their gambles paid off, when they feel fairly certain they’ll be able to keep their lives. Then every quiet lull he’s afforded in the hell zone that is Hange’s jurisdiction becomes devoted to bastardized renditions of the song he once shared with a fellow friend; what strikes him especially hard is how stagnant she’s been, in stark contrast to the upheaval of change the rest of humanity has gone through. That frightens him, much more than he’d like to admit.

When Levi’s squad have routine cleaning one day Armin is handed a dust cloth and shoved in the direction of Hange’s lab, so he swallows the lump in his throat – it’s now perpetually there anyway – and heads off resignedly, letting himself in with only a cursory knock at the door. The place is a mess as expected, and he automatically turns to organise the overflowing desk, swamped as it is with supernumerary documents and various bottled substances with the labels half falling off. His eyes catch on a particular one that reads _‘hallucinogen’_ , fingers still and hover over beckoning glass vial. He draws back for the time being and busies himself with the clutter, sifting and sorting and stacking. It's only when he's done that he allows himself to bow to temptation. Armin shakes one out and forces it down dry; slips the rest of the small white tablets into the lining of his jacket when he leaves. No one will know, anyway, anything could get lost in this glorious disarray of paraphernalia, and the drug won’t take effect until roughly half an hour has passed – sufficient time for him to make himself scarce.

Levi may not believe him when he says he’s ill, but Levi will believe him when he says that he possibly inhaled something in the laboratory that’s making him extremely nauseous right then. The commander takes one look at the painstakingly polished floor and assents. He’s dispatched promptly to the infirmary, and sent off with many a commiserating glance and pat on the back.

He gets there just in time, slumping against the door frame of the sickroom as the vividness of his senses sharpens all at once, overwhelming him with the potency of every flash of colour, every thrilling whirl generated by small movement. He slides down to the floor (and tries hard not to think of another instance he did that in the past), and lets the violent streaks of sight and sound take over: a dazzling display. She's there, too, in the middle of it all, staring him down with eyes that flash from sea green to icy blue to grey; she's there and he can't decipher whatever it is she's trying to tell him. When the effects fade away at the end of what feels like hours, he crawls over to the standard-issue cot and burrows his face into the sheets. Eren and Mikasa will find him fast asleep when they come to check up on him, a faint crease on his forehead (like the one on her forehead, but they don’t know that).

The song leads him from wakefulness to sleep and back again; both lullaby and alarm; hope and despair.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (wassup guys it's a quarter to 2am what the fuck am I doing here)
> 
> This is the part where it all goes downhill. Armin gets doped up. Do not copy him.

 

_//_

_I’m bowing out, I need a second chance_

_//_

 

**xxx**

 

The song; the one he’s taken to calling their song. It loops through his head, as he’s sure it once did in hers.

The next time he takes the hallucinogen is on a rainy day a month later, when the heavy downpour forces the cancellation of one of Hange’s experiments and everyone shuffles indoors noisily. Armin seizes a random book from his belongings and tells them he wants some alone time. His friends are a trifle surprised that he’s actually absenting himself instead of just reading in one corner like he usually does, but he’s out of the door before they can voice any objections.

Tucked in beside the pile of laundry waiting to be redone, he stares at the rain falling and lets his mind fool his eyes into thinking that each drop which hits the ground it crystallises instantly and breaks into shards that reflect glances of yellow and blue light. That he’s watching her form in her crystal cocoon, bit by tiny bit.

After that it’s on the way back from using the latrine at night, and this time he sees her waiting outside the barracks, a presence shaped by shadow and reedy wind and creaking floorboard. She extends her hand, and he proffers his little finger, but it curls around nothing but air, and there’s no gleam of ring to give anything away. The others find him curled up in the corridor come morning. He looks into Eren’s sea green orbs and wishes with all his might that they were Annie’s grey-blue ones instead – he never got to look into her eyes.

This uncharacteristic desire to escape reality is, Armin knows, going to end badly, but he’s already pushed off the slippery slope, and there’s no backpedalling that can save him now. The line “ _my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, e’er since pursue me_ ” comes to mind, and he smiles bitterly. Indeed. It was true that what he once desired was green hills and the feel of sunshine or even Annie herself, but what he desires most acutely now is escape from thoughts of them, escape from the toll they extract from his peace of mind.

Escape from the song that haunts him relentlessly, shoving its message down his throat so hard that he can’t dislodge it; he’ll choke to death.

 

**xxx**

 

The last place white tablets transport him to will be the top of the city walls, snow falling steadily and blanketing the night, interspersed with hail that rattles off rooftops down below. She appears before him as always, the most real of his figments of imagination, a clear jewel set in the velvety darkness. She’s the brightest star in the sky, and he tells her so.

She says, “Shouldn’t you be letting go?” and his reply is, “I can’t.”

_Jean is woken by the sharp, ragged pants of air in the room. They’re desperate noises, like someone’s being attacked, except that doesn’t make sense at one in the morning. Squinting around at the others for a clue, he meets wide blue eyes and freezes for a long moment, then realises – Armin can’t actually see him. Jean crawls unwillingly out of bed to shake Eren awake, and at the exact same moment Armin lets out a strangled gasp and crashes to the floor. Jean and Eren lock eyes as the blonde boy dashes unsteadily for the door, then scramble after him quietly._

There’s no more conversation, and the snow continues to pile up around him in haphazard drifts, an effort to bury the tumult of his feelings under the restraint that society demands. He flails desperately as his limbs get number; Annie’s eyes are steady on him through it all. Armin manages to claw his way upright and staggers forward – she’s so near yet so far away. The crystal hangs suspended in the night air, snow falls gently, and he spots a rope ladder lowered out of nowhere. He starts climbing. Eventually he gets to eye level with the girl in the crystal, but right then the snowfall intensifies, the hail returns –

_“Do you know what the fuck this is about, Jaeger?” Jean growls, as the two of them watch, spellbound, Armin as he climbs up to the roof. There’s a telling pause. Jean narrows his eyes._

_“I think so,” Eren cautiously whispers, furiously rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It feels like a betrayal to tell, but there’s no other way to explain this._

_“Probably Annie,” he sighs, as Armin moves his lips to form her name as well. “Damn it all, what’s he doing?”_

_“Should we be getting him down off that roof?” Jean asks, worry clouding his face._

_“Hold it, Jaeger,” he snarls, grabbing an arm as Eren lunges forward instinctively, ready to scale the building too._

_“He looks pretty doped up. Maybe we should try and catch him where he falls instead.”_

\- oh my god, Annie’s leaving. But he didn’t think he could handle having to face her again, because the way they look at each other has to have changed so much since they last met. He needs someone else to tell her why he couldn’t remain as he was, and that he thinks she isn’t exactly the same as she was either, all those years ago. He flails, and fails to reach her.

_Eren glares at Armin, currently perched precariously on top of the chimney and staring around him like something precious just died. He and Jean have no time to react when Armin flings himself off; they watch, horror struck, as he hurtles to the earth._

The snow is as cold and unforgiving as the fall, and he lies in a crumpled heap, golden hair falling over glazed blue eyes, the dark red of blood staining his black coat. A fallen angel, staring up at the heavens for his lodestar. But she’s gone. He’ll wait for her to return.

_When the two boys get to Armin, their hearts sink in tandem. They lever him up into a more comfortable position, Eren cradling his fragile skull on his lap. The early morning air is nippy with a vengeance but all his attention, all their attention, is on the warm, wet blood that seeps onto the snow - the brown haired boy bows his head slowly, and Jean runs to wake Hange and Levi, leaving Eren alone and free to whisper fervent apologies into the blonde hair._

_He says them for another blonde too._

**xxx**

 

Armin wakes in a hospital bed, body screaming in pain and tears running uncontrollably down his face. He’s swathed in plaster and yards of cloth bindings, and securely strapped down so he can’t move, can’t raise his head and look around for the girl who isn’t there, can’t thrash about in tandem with the wails and sobs that wrack his small frame. No one present knows how to react.

He doesn’t know how to stop crying, so he tries singing their song through the gasps for air and fresh bursts of sad loneliness that clench at his heart. Nothing helps, and he lies there pathetically, emptying his core of excess emotion, draining the light in his eyes away along with what remains of his strength.

Eren watches from the doorway with hooded eyes.

In the basement, Annie remains in her crystal cocoon, cold and still and beautiful.

 

_//_

_The love we knew ain’t worth another try_

_//_

 

**xxx**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twelfth Night reference, Mansfield Park reference. My literature texts are taking over my life.
> 
> Story's over, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Armin's section up! got a little carried away though.
> 
> btw, if any of you are willing and able to create fanart for this, please do, because i would really love to see it!
> 
> xo


End file.
